The Dead Girl

The dead girl mopes through a dead scene With a cross-stitched lip she's picking at the seams She's got bravado she says she's been Featured in a few magazines Outside the bar Hank is straddling a police car His fingers are purple and numb from circling crow bar Well, twenty-four years have made it clear That things ain't ever what they appear Now, now, he says, "I won't be going easily No, I won't be going lightly And I won't be going peacefully No, I won't be going innocently" A sweet drink spiked with a speed ball A twenty foot ladder and a ninety foot wall Dark shadows are gathering And swaggering down the hall And I know, I won't be going easily No, I won't be going lightly And I won't be going peacefully No, I won't be going cleanly